We are coming up on October very quickly, and what makes the spooky season better than some spooky writing prompts?
Not much! So from October 17- October 31, please join us here and over on AO3 for 15 days of spooky writing fun!
The collection is HERE
To share your fics here on Tumblr, please use the hashtag #cyberpunktober so everyone can find and share your writing!
Here are the prompts:
Day 1- fancy dress/costume party or masquerade
Day 2- Cyberpunk Vampires
Day 3- seance
Day 4- Going to a haunted house together
Day 5- "Trick or Treat?"
Day 6- SO confesses to you that they're a werewolf. As a human, you respond with a simple okay then go on. Your SO is shocked and can't accept your easy acceptance. From then on, they start trying to test if you're also a mythical creature.
Day 7- “I think there’s something wrong with me.”
Day 8- An object found in a pawn shop or on the road is calling to your character. What does it do? Do they buy/take it? If not, does it show up in their path again?
Day 9- Hunter/Prey
Day 10- Haunted secondhand cybernetics
Day 11- Black Cat/Darth Nibbles
Day 12- Samhain/Day of the Dead
Day 13- Making the mistake of stealing from witches
Day 14- Urban Legends
Day 15- Haunted Abandoned building
Hi! This event is a small group endeavor, so if you’d like to show your support, you can do so here: https://ko-fi.com/ryynstrange
From the Cyberpunk 2077 Prompt Event going on this month. I don’t know how many of these I’ll do, but I had to do this one.
“Nice to meet you, V.”
At the sound of his warm, bassy voice directed towards her, V felt her stomach flip. As their eyes met, V caught sight of a raised eyebrow behind the dark glasses as he thrust his hand out towards her, leaning onto the balls of his feet. Then, his hand was in hers, skin cool and dry against her slightly clammy palm. His handshake was surprisingly gentle, almost reserved, given the size of the arm attached to it. V felt her normally self-assured attitude draining out of her so intensely she might have been able to look down and see it leaking from her shoes.
Wow. He’s really something, she thought. Don’t stand there like a gonk. Say something, goddammit.
“Hey. Hi. You too. I mean, likewise.” She was suddenly very grateful of the clinic’s dim lighting as she felt her cheeks flush red. He seemed not to notice, or politely ignored her embarrassment.
“You find yourself in any trouble, come see me, okay? I’ll fix you up. Any friend of Jackie’s is a friend of mine.”
What kind of trouble we talking about, doc? V thought, before quickly quashing the idea. This guy was at least twice her age, probably had no interest in some punk like her. Hell, he was probably already taken, she thought morosely.
“That’s… really generous. Thanks, Viktor.”
“Call me Vik.” He said, finally releasing V’s hand, crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto his heels. “Never said there wouldn’t be a fee attached, though.” He said, flashing her a lopsided grin. The tingling feeling in V’s stomach intensified.
“Well, I’m sure you’re worth it.” She shot back, deliberately buttering her voice with as much intention as she could muster.
Her reply caught him off guard, just for a moment. His eyebrow twitched again, and he quickly glanced over at his patient, but they were still deep in conversation with Jackie. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight slightly from one foot to the other, and looked down at the floor, seemingly inspecting his boots.
“How’re you finding Night City?”
V suddenly realised he might not be much of a small-talker, and despite the added awkwardness, she found the thought endearing.
“Oh, actually grew up here, kinda. On the outskirts. I’ve been away though. Was in Atlanta for a while.”
“Atlanta, huh? Never been myself. What brought you back to NC?”
V paused, bit her lip. “Uh… I kinda went broke.” She’d walked into that one. She gave an awkward laugh to cover her discomfort.
Viktor didn’t laugh. Instead, his face softened. “Ah. Well. It happens.” Arms still folded over his massive chest, he gave a her a small smile, but this was different from his usual grin. V could sense something else behind his eyes, and she inwardly cursed that they were covered by his tinted glasses, obscuring much of his expression. It would only occur to her, much later, that perhaps it was intentional.
Viktor nodded sagely, apparently lost in thought for a moment before perking up again. “But hey, my prices are pretty reasonable. Maybe I’ll give you a discount if you ask nicely.”
V nodded politely, trying to read him. Did he really mean that?
Viktor was spared having to elaborate when Jackie clapped a huge hand on his shoulder.
“Doctor Vektor, don’t let her talk your ear off. Can’t keep her quiet once she gets going, this one,” he said, as he headed for the door. V tried not to visibly cringe as she saw Viktor’s gaze sweep back to her. His expression, however, remained unchanged, a boyish smile still curled around his mouth.
“Huh. Really.”
V, at a loss as to what else to do, stuck out her hand again.
“Well, nice to - uh, good to meet you. Hopefully see you again soon. Well, not too soon, I mean, hopefully...”
Viktor took her hand mid-sentence, this time gripping her hand tightly in his, and her rambling came to a stop. He laid his other hand with the exoglove lightly on her arm, gently squeezing her shoulder.
“You can come see me anytime. But better not keep Jackie waiting, eh?”
V nodded, suddenly aware that both Viktor’s patient and Jackie were waiting for them to finish their exchange. She was also suddenly very aware that she would do almost anything right now to avoid having to tear herself away from Viktor. He let go of the handshake, but the hand on her shoulder stayed in place for a second before he moved away.
“Go on, now. And take care of yourself out there, V.” He said gently, nodding slightly as if to give her permission to go.
“Thanks, Vik. I will.”
As V followed Jackie out of the clinic, she barely heard what he was saying to her, offering a few non-committal noises to act like she was paying attention. She was so lightheaded her feet might have been hovering a few inches off the ground. As she and Jackie emerged into the late afternoon, the air around her seemed a little warmer, the colours a little brighter, as Night City suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad place to have come home to.
My 2nd entry for the Cyberpunk 2077 Prompt Event @cp2077promptevent
Prompt: 15 April – dialogue: “Here. See/feel how much I want you.”
Pairing: Alt Cunningham / Johnny Silverhand
Note: Alt Cunningham’s a rockstar, Johnny Silverhand too. They met in college, started two different bands, but still keep in touch to exchange ideas about songs and… do other fun things. It’s a bit of a random story, written only following the prompt’s mood, and veeery different from what I expected.
The “take your broken heart” quote isn’t mine, of course. The song Alt’s singing is “Kandy Krush” by Kim Wilde, idk why but I’ve always thought about her while listening to it.
Smut under the cut. Read at your own risk.
(Thanks to @spectrum-nebula for her translation and beta-reading work, and for being the wonderful creature she is.)
“I only feel alive when I sing.”
Alt smokes her cigarette, for the last time before it runs out. She shakes it to get rid of the ashes, then throws it in the ashtray. The ink is drying up, a sentence still uncertain: it would take very little to erase it, replace it with another, less fragile feeling, but it’s alright. It’s sincere. She had promised herself before she started singing: never tell lies about yourself. If anything, change the words to express a feeling, but never erase it.
Take your broken heart, and turn it into art.
And she knows a little something of broken hearts.
She rubs on her temples: he asked her to open for the next Samurai concert, and no matter how many times she repeated herself it doesn’t mean that much to her, that it’s just an offer like any other, in the end she can’t stop thinking about it. Because Johnny is just like that: a summer storm, a hurricane passing by once and leaving you counting the damage for weeks. A damn distraction she cannot do without. A cocky smile, metallic fingers always brushing against her side in the same way after they have sex, as if they’re searching for a trace left long ago. Lips tasting like alcohol, like rattled off promises kept one time of out ten, yet beautifully enticing. The powerful voice with which he improvises for her the lyrics she’s written only a few hours ago, filled with rage and an energy he pours out between the sheets while touching her. She’s known him for a lifetime, and another life wouldn’t be enough to get used to him.
She sighs, knowing far too well she’s gonna end up in his arms again after the concert, the same way it’s always been: there are scripts that, no matter how edited and rewritten they can be, lead to the same ending. So it was for the first one, when from the front raw she would catch every single glance he threw at her between one refrain and the other, as so it was for the last, when she waited for him in the dressing room and they had sex, passionately, barely closing the door without even thinking about Kerry and Denny and Nancy out there and Henry who’d surely come by to drink something after he finished signing autographs for his groupies…
You’re the safe place I come back to every time, he had whispered once, head laying on her chest. She would gladly give away half the money she’s earned throughout her career to know if he was sincere or not.
And then the concert comes, and she’s on stage with the girls, first tuning their instruments, a moment after singing in front of a cheering crowd, people pushing each other and screaming their names. Rogue’s eye sparkle, fingers tight around the guitar. Alt breathes in, closes her eyes, then reaches out for the mic. It’s all there, that instant the audience stops, waiting for the song to start, hundreds of faces holding their breath, anticipating that moment they’ll never forget. When her voice starts singing, with a hint of hesitation she manages to conceal after the first notes, the roar is back with even more energy.
There’s a light there’s a light there’s a light in your eyes tonight…
Johnny is there, backstage, waiting: his eyes never left her for a minute. He watches her moving on stage, leaning down, and touching the fingers of the nearest spectators while delivering the last note to the audience and Rogue finishes her solo. He peers at her, throwing glances that say everything without speaking. Those eyes keep promising something, and perhaps this time they’ll oblige: asking her to open for that concert has to mean something, right? He waits for her to come down, under the stage, and brushes her side again, in the same spot, then tilts his shades to take a better look at her. He’s smiling.
“Good luck, Silverhand.” She’s breathless: never holding back when she sings, and that’s part of what made her irresistible in his eyes, she just knows that. She always gives her everything, one hundred percent, because she couldn’t, wouldn’t do otherwise. He smiles again, fingers lingering on her hips. Denny is looking at them, but who cares? They already know everything, after all, it would be impossible not to notice.
“See you later.”
And here’s the promise. She licks her lips, but only because they’re dry, and she urgently needs to drink. Another lie. She nods at him and he does the same, then glides towards the dressing room. Rogue knows everything, there’s no need for more explanations: she’ll find a way to tell the other girls. After all, they too need their post-concert time to unwind a little.
The dressing room is dark and quiet, perfect to think. She only turns the lights from the wall mirror on, then drops on the black leather couch. She waits, as she always did, this time with certainty of a reward: it’s only a matter of time. She just needs to wait for the roaring crowd to calm down, for the last notes to run out in the darkness of the room, for Johnny to lay down his guitar and walk away from the mic to say goodbye to the audience by waving his hand, as he always does. Then she needs to count the sound of his steps, holding her breath as they stop in front of the door and the doorknob turns and he enters a place they can finally be alone.
Until he’s in front of her, so real it makes her tremble. Finally, all to herself.
She breathes in his scent with a bit of arrogance, holding to his shoulder while he kisses her neck, taking her clothes off and helping her do the same with his. It’s a hurried and urgent homecoming ceremony, where every word is barely murmured and it’s suddenly lost among fingers brushing, grasping, holding to each other and letting go a moment after. The safe place he comes back to every time, the space he can truly let the mask he wears fall, and finally be himself.
He brushes a strand of hair from her face, kissing her again and lifting her leg to adjust it around his waist. Alt breaths in his scent again, intoxicated by that contact, back against the cold wall, fingers on his face. So close, so close, so hers. At least for a little while. An illusion that, for now, will have to do.
“Here. Feel how much I want you.”
His voice is hoarse, warm, and breathless: it’s weird he still has enough to talk. How many times was she about to confess she adores him, that she’d listen to him talking about small things for hours or even singing happy birthday to you or any other nonsense, being able to just listen to him would be enough, until she’s tired of it (and it’d never happen). Complimenting him only to be silenced by a kiss, in the aftermath of sex where everything is funny, and every single thing looks beautiful. Enjoying that sex without thinking about what comes after, because what sense does it make ruining everything before it’s over? Thoughts flow while she tries to stop them from filling her mind, and Johnny’s organic hand – not the metallic one, the warm fingers of his right hand – takes her hand and places it between his legs. As she brushes against his erection, a moan escapes his lips.
She was also about to tell him how much she likes his moans, and maybe she will, sooner or later. Maybe later, when they’re done again and in the aftermath of sex, maybe next time. She likes the idea of leaving him hanging, of always having something different to confess him: it adds a little magic to those encounters. It gives her a reason to mark on the calendar every single day separating her from the next concert. Something to anticipate with joy.
He takes her while brushing her hips once more, laying kisses on her neck that get more and more desperate and soon turn to bites, sinking his fingers in her skin while she breathes in, holding a little moan at first and then letting it go, following his pushes with her hips, leaving little white half-moons on his back with her nails. She climaxes a moment before he does, her sweaty leg still searching for a contact but inevitably slipping down, muscles delightfully numb. If she only had the strength to murmur even a single syllable, she’d propose him to move to the couch to start again, but figuring out what will happen within even a few minutes is impossible with Johnny, and maybe it’d make no sense or…
Until he lifts her up, carrying her right to the couch. And while he slides on top of her, surrounding her in a warm and sweaty embrace that smells like both of them, he leaves her enough time to feel incredibly happy.
He never mentioned loving her voice, but maybe the way he looks at her while she improvises her songs means much more than she could think. Maybe. Those careless caresses, the way he leans his head on her chest and falls asleep after tracing random figures on her skin. His songs. There’s much more to him than he wants to show, beneath that thick skin of a person who does nothing more than shout to the world how much it’s going down the drain.
Sometimes she wonders if she’s the only one who noticed that.
She thinks about it again later, when they make love slowly, once again, after the fire has gone out and their gestures become slower and measured. The hotel room she followed him to is large, smells good and there’s even a soft carpet she can sink her feet into. She can’t help but wonder what it would be living together for more than a week, having a home to come back to and fill with music and more words.
Morning comes, always too soon, leaving the concert and its exciting confusion behind and a new date has been already scheduled, and the girls are waiting for her to add more songs to their setlist, maybe even with a new unpublished work. He’s sleeping, head sunk in the pillow: better leave before he wakes up. Her eyes linger on him for a while and – even if she doesn’t know how – she manages to stop herself from caressing his face. So calm, so far from that life. He doesn’t even look like the same person but, after all, she loves him for what he is. She wouldn’t know how to do without that feeling.
She gets up slowly, collecting her clothes and putting them on, trying not to think too much about what’s going to happen next: by now she’s learned how little that helps with living the present, how much it can poison her days. She smiles at his sleeping silhouette, picturing in her mind his expression in the moment he’s going to find the note she left for him, squeezed in a corner of the wall mirror and signed with a simple A. under the lyrics (a confession, more than an actual song) she drafted while he was sleeping, and smiles.
Summary: On V’s list of “Ways I Do Not Like to Spend My Friday Nights”, rubbing elbows with Night City’s elite at stuffy Arasaka parties would definitely take the top spot. That is, of course, until someone changes her mind...
Warnings: Canon-typical language, use of alcohol, suggestive themes but nothing explicit (Rating- M)
A/N: I’m trying to get back into writing a little more, so I figured I’d try my hand at some of the prompts created for the #MoxWrites2077 challenge! Specifically in this case: Day 3 - First Meetings. Thank you for hosting such an encouraging, supportive event! I’ve honestly never felt so inspired.
Charter Hill, 2071
On V’s list of “Ways I Do Not Like to Spend My Friday Nights”, rubbing elbows with Night City’s elite at stuffy Arasaka parties would definitely take the top spot.
Breathe. Relax. It's just a party, not a firing squad.
Though admittedly, if faced with the choice, V wasn't confident she could wholeheartedly say she'd prefer the former to the latter.
Arasaka spared no expense when it came to parties, and tonight was certainly no exception. The uppermost floor of the corporate hotel had been entirely transformed, staff from all departments mingling in the grand function room. The suite stretched out onto the balcony where the deep aquamarine ripples of the pool shimmered invitingly, glass and chrome furniture glittering in the light of the setting sun.
Had said party not been full of corporate sharks waiting to strike at the first scent of blood, V may have even described it as beautiful.
Not for the first time that evening, V surreptitiously adjusted the plunging neckline of her dress, silently resenting herself for choosing one that left her lacking on the brassiere front. For the most part, she had been lucky when it came to avoiding these functions, her role within Special Operations landing her in combat more often than it did black-tie events, but her luck had seemed to run dry on this occasion.
Said occasion being the promotion of her trainer, commander, and corporate leash-handler to the position of Director.
It made sense. Kiran Keller was, on paper, the perfect candidate for director of Special Operations; ruthless, efficient, and not above shoving a rifle in the face of whoever stood in her way. V both respected and feared the older woman in equal measure, but even that was not enough to coax a feeling other than discontent from her when faced with the prospect of a party in her direct superior's honour.
On a Friday night, no less.
Mandatory attendance for all Counterintelligence, Defence, and Special Operations staff. Plus ones permitted.
Jackie had almost laughed his ass off when she'd suggested he tag along. "Vicky, you know I love you hermana... but fuck no." Not even the promise of an open bar had been enough to sway the man, and with a loving pat on the back, he'd pushed her out of the door with nothing but a smug "Buena suerte, chica!" to keep her company.
And now, here she was; alone, painfully sober, and regretting ever allowing herself to be talked into buying the black patent abominations currently chafing away at her ankle bones.
Thanks, Jack.
This was not her typical Friday night. Friday nights involved wine- lots of wine- takeout food of questionable origin, and playful repartee with the only person able to keep her head above water no matter how many times Arasaka- Keller- tried to sink it. Jackie... Jackie didn't know everything concerning her sudden backtrack into the corporate world, but he stood by her anyway; a friend through thick and thin.
No, not a friend. A brother. Family.
V sighed, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth despite her distaste for the situation she found herself in. She never could stay mad at him for long.
She made her way over to the bar in the centre of the suite. V knew she’d have to face Keller at some point, be the polite, courteous corpo-rat her grandmother had once tried to morph her into, but the prospect of dealing with the woman sober struck fear through her gut like a hot poker.
Whiskey, don’t fail me now.
Hailing the bartender, V braced her arms against the countertop, newly lacquered nails tapping nervously against the sleek black marble. "Bourbon, please. On the rocks."
The room was abuzz with voices conversing in jargon she didn't understand, filled with faces she didn't recognise. I don't belong here. It was the world she had been born into, sure, but not the world she had grown up in; mercifully whisked away at an early age following her parents' divorce, never having to endure the falsehoods, the corruption, the brutal backstabbing...
Well, until recently, that was.
Mom's probably rolling in her grave right now...
It was easier to ignore at work; that sickening feeling of shame, of guilt. It was easier to convince herself that she had no choice, that she was doing what anyone else in her position would do to keep themselves afloat when she was cutting down enemies, doing exactly what Arasaka told her to do like a good little corpo-rat.
But now? Dressed to the nines, sipping complimentary whiskey that no doubt cost more than her first apartment had, kissing ass and masquerading as someone who belonged in this world outside of working hours? V felt sick, a tightness that was becoming worryingly familiar as of late crushing her chest, stealing her breath.
I need air. Now.
Clutching her glass, she weaved through the crowds as gracefully as she could, forced polite smile on her face. Just a few more steps. Large doors beckoned her out into the cool evening air, relief washing over her as she made it onto the balcony unscathed and with her dignity still- relatively- intact.
The chatter was quieter out on the roof, and V felt the suffocating brain fog slowly start to dissipate, leaving only tendrils of tiredness in its wake. How many hours until she could leave without Keller hunting her for sport? V couldn’t be sure. Too many, at least.
She walked towards the quieter end of the balcony, only a few lone partygoers occupying the space, enjoying the last rays of the setting sun before it gave way to night. The music from inside the suite drifted lowly on the breeze, and V stopped to lean against the glass balustrade, gazing out at the bustling city below. Out of the corner of her eye, V noticed a suited man to the left of her doing the same, looking out at the city as the sun set on the horizon, bathing the towering corporate monoliths in a warm, orange glow. From her vantage point, V could faintly see the mismatched structures of The Glen in the distance, not quite gleaming with the same abstract beauty as the sleek buildings of Charter Hill, but emanating an aura of their own nonetheless.
Home.
"Quite the view, isn't it?" The man to her left had moved a few steps closer, body turned to face her.
She hummed, feeling the breeze toy with the loose strands of hair framing her face, the sensation a soothing balm after the buzz of the party inside. "It's almost peaceful when you can't hear the traffic."
V allowed herself to glance over at the man beside her, taking in his features in the golden light. His attention swept back to the guests mingling on the rooftop, before settling on her once more. "Not enjoying the party?"
She tried not to grimace. "That obvious, huh?"
"Not really, I just know a fellow reluctant participant when I see one." The man smiled warmly then, holding out his hand. "Jenkins, Night City Counterintelligence."
She took his hand. "V, work for Keller over in Special Operations." The firmness of his shake was grounding, a much-needed anchor amidst the swirling cloud of anxiety that had hung over her head since stepping foot on the premises, and V found herself enjoying it perhaps a little more than she should have. It didn't hurt that the man himself was easy on the eyes; six-foot-something of toned muscle hidden beneath sharp suits, dark hair and bright blue eyes that had V mentally calculating exactly how long it had been since she'd last gotten laid- anything to excuse the way her pulse had spiked at the slightest touch that wasn't accompanied by barked commands or the sting of combat.
Ah, fuck.
"Keller, huh? The woman of the hour."
"That she is." For better or worse.
Then, as if posing a scandalous question, Jenkins dipped his head towards hers, voice lowering, a look of mirth shining in his eyes. "She as scary as the recruitment vids make her out to be?"
V laughed. Between the warmth of the whiskey and the man's- Jenkins'- presence, the discomfort she had felt moments earlier was already melting away. "'Fraid so. Never met her?"
"Never had the pleasure of working with her, no. She likes to keep her department... contained, so to speak."
That was putting it mildly.
"Don't I know it..." V muttered, downing the last mouthful of bourbon. She tried to ignore the way his gaze trailed from her lips down to her throat and lower still, the stubborn spark of heat that had ignited in her stomach at his touch steadily growing into something more.
"Can I get you another?" Jenkins nodded his head in the direction of the bar, charming smile toying at his lips. "Might as well make the evening as bearable as we can, since we're both stuck here indefinitely."
Fuck, he was good at that. All charm and smiles and smooth words... V had no trouble believing he was ruthlessly efficient at his job, thriving in this world that was eating her alive.
"Lead the way."
Jenkins held out his arm for her to take, and the gesture did not go unappreciated, V’s discomfort melting away into something almost foreign to her.
Enjoyment.
The bar was impossibly busier when they arrived back inside, the pair clearly not the only ones with alcohol in mind to ease the almost glacial passing of time. They found a space towards the far end of the suite, Jenkins ushering her in before taking up position next to her, propping his arm against the countertop as V mirrored his stance. He leaned down to speak over the noise, a warm, firm hand pressed against the small of her back as his breath tickled her ear. The scent of his cologne washed over her, and V found herself instinctively leaning into him, heat rising to her cheeks as she willed him not to notice. "What's your poison?"
"Bourbon, please." Jenkins turned to catch the attention of the bartender, ordering two whiskeys that were swiftly placed in front of him. V took the glass handed to her, grateful for the sweetness on her tongue as she took a sip to calm her nerves.
"So," Jenkins began, swirling his glass, "how long have you been with spec-ops? Can't have been long, I imagine."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Though her tone was playful, a part of V- the part she had been trying to keep on a tighter leash since swapping the streets of Heywood for trouser suits and espionage- bristled at the implications of his words, that this man she had met not even an hour ago thought he could read her, could see past the walls she had so carefully built up to keep her neck intact in this cutthroat corporate world...
Jenkins grinned, picking up on her irritation immediately. Guess that leash needed to be tighter. "Your eyes." At her puzzled look, he continued. "There's fear in them- hidden, of course, but it's still there. You look around this room, you see threats. If Keller's anything like the stories I've heard about her, well..." Another smile, this one tinged with the slightest hint of sympathy. "She's got your balls in a vice, hm? Something held above your head? And you think everyone in this room is in her pocket, too- that you can't trust anyone."
Well, shit.
"The thing is," Jenkins continued, sparing her the embarrassment of attempting to retort with her tongue tied in knots, "once you've been here long enough, you soon realise everyone else has their balls in a vice, too. Everyone's out to save their own necks." He took a sip of his drink, piercing blue eyes meeting hers once more. "You stop seeing them as threats once you know you can ruin their day with a few special words whispered into the right ear. Power and control... S'all it is, V. Gotta take what you can from this world before it ruins you."
V stood in stunned silence, equal parts admiration for the man and annoyance that she had been so easily read. Jenkins saw through the silence- because of course he did- and laughed good naturedly. "So… how did I do?"
V smiled despite herself, shaking her head slowly in disbelief. "That's quite the party trick." She took a drink from her own glass, savouring the burn at the back of her throat before continuing. "Been there just over nine months now, did some freelance work before that."
"That how they sunk their hooks into you?" At V's pointed look, he smirked. "Thought as much. They never have played fair- guess they just like to make everyone else's jobs around here all the more complicated."
V paused for a moment, studying the man before her, all confident smiles and charming words. "And you? Who's got your balls in a vice?"
Jenkins laughed, shaking his head. "Can't tell you that, V. Speaking her name often has the unfortunate effect of summoning her, and I'm enjoying my evening far too much for that right now."
The pair fell into a somewhat comfortable silence then, watching partygoers pass by, some more inebriated than others. V thought back to what Jenkins had said, reluctantly admitting to herself that perhaps he spoke a lot of truths, no matter how… grating those truths may be. She was about to speak when a new voice halted her train of thought.
"Jenkins, there you are."
V didn't miss the way Jenkins' demeanour changed almost instantly; posture stiffening at the sound of the woman's voice as she neared the pair, stopping in front of them with her arms folded tightly across her chest. The look she gave the man was cold, calculating, and V noticed the same look mirrored in her drinking companion's eyes.
Ah, balls and vices.
When Jenkins spoke, his voice was firm, any traces of the man who had joked good naturedly with her all evening effectively brushed away, hidden beneath effortless professionalism. "Abernathy. Enjoying the party?"
The woman rolled her eyes. "Cut the bullshit Arthur, I'm not in the mood." V watched as Jenkins' jaw twitched in irritation, turning to face the bar to avoid being drawn into a conversation she really had no business being in. She flagged down the bartender once more, and soon enough another two glasses were set in front of her, condensation glistening under the soft lights.
"Logistics need to run something by us before we leave the city, and I'd rather not drag that out any longer than needed." Her cold gaze shifted from Jenkins to V, and then down to the glasses on the table, lips curling with thinly veiled disapproval. "We leave in five minutes. Do not make me wait."
Almost as quickly as she appeared, Abernathy turned to leave, heels clicking across the polished hardwood. Wordlessly, V pushed one of the glasses across the countertop, Jenkins taking the offering with an appreciative nod, knocking back a mouthful of the amber liquid as she turned her attention to the retreating form of their unexpected guest. V waited until the woman was safely out of earshot, watching as she stepped around drunken interns dancing amongst themselves with the same look of distaste she'd presumably been wearing all evening. "Friend of yours?"
Jenkins grimaced into his drink as if the very notion were offensive. "Colleague. We've been stationed in Osaka for the past ten months- longest fucking ten months of my life."
"Wanna swap?" V propped her elbow up on the bar, hand resting beneath her chin as she levelled Jenkins a playful smirk. "Think you could charm your way through an 0500 hours training session with Keller while I jet off to Japan?"
Jenkins barked a laugh, shaking his head in mock disapproval, any lingering traces of tension disappearing from his shoulders. "Isn't that Director Keller now?"
"Mmhmm, lucky me, right?"
Jenkins opened his mouth to retort, only to pause as his gaze locked onto Abernathy stood in the grand doorway across from the bar, glaring daggers at the man while jerking her head in the direction of the AV pad.
"Well, V. I suppose that's my cue to leave." His eyes shone a brighter blue for a second, the familiar flash of incoming data lighting up her own optics. "I'm flying back to Osaka tomorrow morning, but I've flicked you my details." He paused. "Should you ever need them, of course."
Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it was the dress... Or, hell, maybe it was the ten-month dry spell that inspired a sudden surge of confidence within her. Whatever it was, V didn't have time to question it before her mouth acted of its own accord, brain cell lagging about five minutes behind it. "Is that strictly for business? Or for pleasure, too?"
Preem. Smooth, V.
She tried not to recoil too visibly at her own words. Jesus, where did that one come from, you gonk? She could almost hear Jackie's affable mocking in the back of her mind, delighting in the way she fumbled through any and all dealings of the romantic variety. Shit, maybe it really had been too long since Lola...
To her relief, Jenkins' smile only widened in response, the man laughing as he placed a hand on her elbow. "I suppose time will tell in that regard." His voice was low, smooth, and V hated the way her stomach flipped at the sound. The crowded bar left little room for personal space, and- not for the first time that evening- she found herself wondering just who the hell deemed it fair to make his eyes that goddamn blue.
V didn't realise just how openly she had been staring until the man before her smirked, his thumb stroking soft circles in the crook of her elbow as heat rose to her cheeks, brown eyes widening in realisation.
So much for subtlety.
Amused, Jenkins leaned in closer once more, speaking low enough that his voice was only just distinguishable above the music. "Goodnight, V." She shivered at the closeness. "Don't let this world swallow you whole, hm? Be a damn shame to lose that fire." With a wink, he stepped away from the bar, making his way over to the doorway his colleague had disappeared through moments earlier. V watched until he, too, had vanished from sight, sighing before finishing off the remaining whiskey in her glass in one undignified gulp.
That... could have gone worse.
The man... Jenkins... was charming, dangerously so, with just enough carefully concealed hot-headedness to send her mind wandering to less than professional places. V groaned inwardly, sending a silent prayer to whichever god her mom had thought so highly of that she hadn't been too embarrassing. She wasn't sure Keller would ever let her know a moment's peace again if not.
Right, Keller.
V sighed. Reality calls. But as she went to leave the bar, track down the newly appointed director seemingly committed to making every day of V's mandatory twenty-year loyalty obligation a living hell, she paused, and noticed the flashing notification in the corner of her optics.
New Contact Added: Arthur Jenkins.
A strange feeling settled into her chest. It wasn't fear, no... Something new, something good. A lightness of sorts; a buoyancy aid thrown her way when all she had felt prior was a sickening sinking feeling, tied down by suspicion and disquietude and fear like a lead weight.
Power and control. Maybe she could work with that after all.
She squared her shoulders. For the first time since joining the corporation, the first time since selling her soul away on a dotted line as if it meant nothing... V didn't feel so utterly alone in the lion's den, and she smiled.
Well, who would have thought. Maybe these parties aren't so bad after all...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Kerry Eurodyne/V
Characters: Kerry Eurodyne, V (Cyberpunk 2077), Male V
Additional Tags: Established Relationship, midnight visits, sometimes you just gotta go hang out with the bf at 3am, neither of them knows what a sleep schedule is, (neither do i DO NOT ask me how long i've been awake)
Summary:
“What’s gotten into you anyway? Not that I’m complaining but you don’t generally come over in the middle of the night.”
“Hmmm… nothing much,” V continues to smile widely. “Just had a good day- night, I guess.” His eyes flicker to the side in a tell-tale motion of listening to Johnny. “And too much leftover adrenaline, yes. Felt like I had to come over… hope that’s fine.” He suddenly turns bashful.
Seriously. This guy.
---
Prompt fill for Day 1 of #MoxWrites2077 the CP2077 Prompt Event! Had a lot of fun, but also I can’t enjoy this song now bc I’ve sucked it dry of any emotion by listening to it for 8 hours straight hjksjdfhj
As usual you can read this on AO3. (Yes, I skipped Day 20)
Daily Prompt:
April 21 - dialogue - “I’m leaving now, or I’m going to say something I’ll regret.”
Technical Prompt:
none
Again just a short drabble.
"I’m leaving now, or I’m going to say something I’ll regret." Val stands up without looking at him, hands raised in a dismissive gesture, she turns away from him and walks off.
For a moment, she had thought they were having something of a moment, would understand each other better, become closer.
"V?" He calls after her.
"Just leave me alone for a moment... need some space." She answers without turning back to him.
They shared childhood memories. And then he told her she had no right to judge him - only to judge her with his next sentence. Judge her and Jacke.
Jackie's name in his mouth. Your friend Mr. Welles.
She could have punched him in the face right there and then... or gave him a short circuit.
"Or blow him in his knee with your revolver..." Johnny's voice in her head suggests, and Val sighs.
Built-up grief mixed with anger as she wanders the construction site, panting through her open mouth.
Goro's words echo in her mind. Something about taking the easy path. Something about having no principles. Something about lack of honor.
As if anything in her life had ever been easy... His beliefs are so twisted and conflicting. "Brainwashed since he was a kid..." Johnny says while glitching in her view, back against a pillar, puffin a cig.
Val just nods at him and reaches into her pocket to light an actual cigarette. When did she start to have cigarettes with her..?
---
I love Goro. But everytime he starts talking about Jackie and principles during Gimme Danger, I get angry af!
Notes on the Bathroom Wall - Cyberpunk 2077 Prompt Challenge
Found on AO3 Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30383652/chapters/75362817
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Prompt: April 6 - sitch - Takemura cooks a meal (for whomever
Technical Prompt: Prose Poem, under 150 words
Characters: Goro Takemura, Female V
Relationships: Goro Takemura/V
Chapter 6 - An Act of Love
~~~~~
Cooking for someone is an act of love.
He believes it is an intimate gesture of care. To nourish the body with a portion of one’s soul. For every meal requires that contribution, otherwise it is just fuel.
He is meticulous in the selection of ingredients. He wants the elements that come together in this synergy of flavor to be pure, real, unmarred by synthetics.
He applies honed tools and skills to prepare each item. A sharpened knife, an extension of his hand. The movements, fluid and precise.
He coaxes the flavor to its fullest, before arranging his art on the blank canvas of a porcelain plate.
He places the culmination of his feelings before her.
Prompt: song - Dear Future Self (Hands Up) - Fall Out Boy
Just a quick scene that came to mind from the vibe of the chorus. f!V & Johnny.
Hands up, ready for the boom. Never mind the rocket launcher, talking 'bout a tune. You can hear us comin' with the zoom. Listen to the "Boom, boom" we are breaking through
- - -
The car is parked in the shade, the windows down and radio playing softly, across the way from the new gig. Inconspicuous, waiting to make a surprise visit to an asshole who definitely has it coming.
V's elbow rests on the window frame with a cigarette between her fingers, occasionally flicking ash down the side of the car; her other hand is on the stock of the tactical shotgun laying across her knees.
Beside her, Johnny taps out a half-hearted rhythm on the door panel with his 'ganic hand. His metal one rests high on V's thigh, thumb sometimes joining the rhythm, fingers flexing with the urge to join too. The song ends and so does the tapping, so he squeezes her thigh, shifts his hand a little higher.
V doesn't react. She raises the cigarette, takes a long drag, never looks away from the target.
Johnny pulls on her thigh, just enough to rock her leg.
"How long we waitin'?" he asks, already knowing the answer.
V exhales smoke through her nose, flicks the ash. "Long as we have to."
